


Of Birthdays, Mannequins, and Shotguns

by SabbyStarlight



Series: George Eads Appreciation Week 2020! [7]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Birthday related shenanigans, Fluff, Gen, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabbyStarlight/pseuds/SabbyStarlight
Summary: Day seven of George Eads Appreciation Week!  Happy Birthday George!A boring mission in Texas on Jack's birthday.  What could go wrong?
Series: George Eads Appreciation Week 2020! [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645582
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31





	Of Birthdays, Mannequins, and Shotguns

**Author's Note:**

> I write a lot of my fics on my phone and a while back I realized that if I typed Jack's, which happens a lot in writing for the MacGyver fandom, the three words my autocorrect suggests to follow are always, withoit fail, birthday mannequin and shotgun. I have no reasoning for it, but it happens every time. And I jokingly said I was gonna use those three words as inspiration for a fic one day. Well, in honor of George's (and therefore, in my mind, Jack's) birthday, that day is today.

“This sucks, man," Jack complained for what had to have been the hundredth time that day, dropping onto the side of his hotel bed with a sigh. "Today? Of all days?" 

"I know, buddy," Mac sat down on his own bed, the small space between them, just big enough for a nightstand with a lamp screwed into its top and an ancient alarm clock, meant their pajama pant clad knees were nearly touching. "I'm sorry. Of all the days for us to get sent on the literal most boring op ever, they had to pick your birthday."

"Ain't just that," Jack fell backward onto his bed with a sigh. "I never expect to get actual holidays off with this gig, let alone today, though you're right, this has been so boring. But we're in freakin' Texas man. I'm like, what, two, almost three hours away from the ranch? On my birthday. And stuck here." 

Mac looked around at just what here entailed and had to admit, it was a pretty lackluster way to spend a birthday. The hotel room was as bland as he had ever seen, though he had stayed in a lot worse over the years. Thin walls, cheap bedding, lukewarm water in the shower, but it was clean. And while it had been an admittedly boring mission, Mac would take that over a dangerous one any day. It wasn't even a surveillance job, it didn't require even that small amount of skill. They were simply there to be a diversion. A contact of Matty's in the CIA had a team transporting a highly-sensitive file by hand and they caught wind that the man they had stolen it from was trailing them. They hadn't been made yet, but it was close, so she had sent Mac and Jack in, offering a genuinely heartfelt apology for ruining Jack's day, hoping that Dion Hatcher would assume they were the agents he was after and would follow them, giving the actual agents an open pass back home safely.

It was a solid plan, but all it had consisted of so far was Mac and Jack roadtripping through Texas, just far enough away from Jack's family home for him to not be recognized, stopping occasionally to look suspicious, placing secretive phone calls and looking worriedly over their shoulders when they felt eyes on them. And now they were taking the actual agents room for the night, at a quiet little hotel just nondescript enough to work into their plan. 

"You could have turned it down," Mac reminded him gently. He had actually suggested it when he watched Jack answer Matty's call early yesterday morning, seeing the older man's face fall as he realized what she was asking. "I would have backed you up, you know. You deserve a break every once and awhile, Jack. And it isn't like this isn't a job we had to do. She could have called in someone else." 

"I know the area," Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. "We were her first choice for a reason. It's just another day, Mac. Don't matter." 

"Maybe not," Mac kicked a bare foot into Jack's shin. "But you do. And for what it's worth, I really am sorry." 

"You don't even like birthdays," Jack smiled, touched more than he would let on that his partner was so upset on his behalf. "Don’t like celebratin' 'em." 

"But you do," Mac shrugged as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. 

"Just another day, hoss," Jack sat back up. "Just another day. We can celebrate when we make it back home, once this is all over." 

“Yeah, okay," Mac agreed. "You ready to call it a night, then? Matty's expecting Hatcher to send one of his goons to check up, make sure we're really here." 

"Cause I'm gonna sleep so well expectin' some creep to be peerin' in here on us," Jack grumbled, crawling between the sheets, waiting to make sure Mac had done the same before reaching over and turning off the light. "Night, kid." 

"Good night," Mac sent a sad smile across the darkness. "Happy birthday." Jack didn't answer so Mac rolled over onto his side and tried to fall asleep. An hour of tossing and turning later, though, and he was still wide awake. "You still awake?" He asked softly, voice barely a whisper, though he was fairly certain that Jack was no closer to sleep than he was. 

"Yeah," He confirmed and Mac heard the bedsprings creak as Jack rolled over to face him. "Why're you?" 

"Can't sleep," Mac shrugged. "You know me, I never can crash on the job like this." And it was true, as much as Jack had tried his best to drive the importance of developing that skill into Mac's brain over the years he had never been successful. It was why Mac so often spent the exfil flight back home sound asleep, passed out on the jet's small sofa before the wheels even left the tarmac. "But you always can, so I should be asking you that." 

"You gonna laugh at me if I tell you?" 

Mac hesitated for a moment, weighing his words before deciding that honesty was usually the best way to go with Jack anyway since he would usually see right through it if he tried to get away with a lie. "Maybe. But you're gonna go ahead and tell me." 

Jack huffed a laugh and Mac could feel some of his tension escape with the sound. "Just thinkin' about all the birthdays I've spent doin' somethin' like this." 

"In a questionable motel room, not sleeping?" Mac teased, propping himself up on one elbow, entirely giving up on the prospect of sleep for the time being. 

"This isn't the first time, that's for sure," Mac rolled his eyes at the wink he knew Jack had shot his way even though he couldn't see it. "But naw, just, doin' what we do. Putting our lives on hold to keep everyone else safe. I think at this point I've spent more birthdays workin' than I have not." 

"There had to be some good ones though," Mac tried to lighten the subject. "They can't all have been awful."

"Didn't say they were awful," Jack corrected. "Spent most of those days with good people, yourself included. Just that they weren't how I would have chose to spend 'em." 

"What was the best?" Mac asked, genuinely curious, going back through his vast memories of long-winded Jack stories, trying to remember any about a particularly great birthday and coming up blank. 

"Twenty-first," Jack answered automatically. "Hands down." 

"Of course it was," Mac laughed. He should have expected as much.

"Not for the reason you're thinkin'," He could hear Jack's smile, voice growing wistful in the way it only did when he was talking about his dad. "Didn't spend it gettin' hammered with the guys, goin' crazy, nothin' like that. Pops took me out, bought me my first beer."

"Yeah," Mac laughed at the suggestion that Jack Dalton had waited until he was legally allowed to drink before starting. "Sure it was." 

"Well," And Jack's voice shifted again, growing clearer as he propped himself up, mirroring Mac. "My first legal one, that is." 

"That I can believe." 

"Took me out to this cool little hole in the wall joint, actually..." Jack's voice trailed off and he sat fully up, fumbling on the nightstand in the dark for his phone, squinting at the light. "You know what? I'll be damned," He laughed a few moments later. "It's a little less than an hour north from here." 

"You mean it's still there?" Mac asked, genuinely surprised, not catching how the question could be taken as a dig at Jack's age until the spare pillow from the other bed came flying towards his face. 

"Course it's still there, how old do you think I am?" 

"You really want me to answer that?" Mac asked, tossing the pillow back. 

"Nope," He saw Jack shake his head in the dim light from his phone, staring at the picture on the screen of the bar. "This place'll still be standin' long after I'm gone though. Been around for years and years. It was actually where dad had his first drink too. His daddy took him on his twenty-first. Dalton family tradition, I guess." 

Mac frowned, calculating the mileage in his head. "You said it was north, right? That’s an awfully long drive. Why would they pick a place so far from home?" 

At that Jack laughed, the first real one Mac had heard from him all day. "That's just common sense, hoss. You go out on a Friday night, lookin' to have a little fun? You don't go to the local watering hole, you go far enough away that word about whatever you got into won’t have had time to make it back home in time for church on Sunday mornin'. So long as you do, nobody'll be the wiser."

"That... yeah okay," Mac agreed after pondering over that unique piece of advice for a moment. "That's just crazy enough to almost make sense." 

"Man," Jack shook his head, closing out of the picture on his phone and dropping it back on the nightstand with a dull clunk, sending the room into darkness once again. "If that ain't some twisted up bit of irony I don't know what is. We're that close, on today of all days, and can't even stop to pay it a visit." 

"I mean," The words were escaping Mac's lips before he even gave his mind a chance to process them, to warn himself of just how bad an idea he was having. "What if we did?" 

"Nah, you know Matty's a stickler for us keepin' to that schedule she sent us with. We'll be drivin' past the exit for it at around breakfast time. Won't even be open. And it'd look mighty suspicious if our tail caught us breaking for a quick commemorative photo, us being the upstanding CIA agents he thinks we are. Too risky."

"I didn't mean in the morning," Mac smiled, plan forming, sitting up and swinging his legs free from the tangle of sheets. "Let's go now. It's still early. We're this close and it's your birthday, for a few more hours at least."

"You ain't jokin', are you?" Jack laughed. "What'd you do with my good little rule-abiding partner?"

"We can be there and back before anyone even notices we were gone," Mac decided, running with the plan, grabbing his own phone to use as a light since he didn’t' want to turn the lamp back on and ruin the appearance of them still being asleep, as he began digging through his duffel bag for a change of clothes. "All we're supposed to do is be sleeping anyway, nobody has to know. And like you said, it's crazy to send you this close on your birthday and not get to celebrate. C'mon!" He tossed Jack's bag onto his bed. "Get dressed."

"We really doin' this?" Jack asked, not quite believing it, even as he began changing into a pair of dark jeans. "You're sure?"

"Positive." Mac had that voice, the one he only used when he was coming up with a crazy plan that may or may not end up getting them both killed. "Let's go." 

"Hold up, now," Jack stood up, crossing his arms over his bare chest, the shirt he was about to pull on hanging from one hand. "I'm all for this, but what's gonna happen when Hatcher shows up checkin' in on us? We're supposed to be tucked away in these beds till morning and while I sincerely doubt he's gonna come on in here and check for himself, what's gonna happen if he does and we're not?"

Mac scanned the room for a moment, searching for an answer. Jack swore the room lit up a little brighter the moment his eyes sparked with an idea. "Stay here, finish getting dressed." He quickly pulled a henley over his head and grabbed his jacket off the back of the desk chair. I'll be back. Be at the windows waiting." And he snuck out the door without any further explanation. 

Jack had learned a long time ago not to question one of Mac's plans, as crazy and unthought out as they might have been, so he did as he was told and finished getting dressed, waiting at the unlocked windows. There was a movement in the shadows coming from behind the row of shrubbery separating the parking spots from the building, slowly drawing closer, and Jack tensed automatically, though he knew it was just Mac. Sure enough, a few seconds later, his partner's blond hair was visible in the moonlight, dragging what appeared to be two clothing store mannequins behind him. 

"What in the hell?" Jack hissed as Mac fumbled to lift the mannequins into the partially open window, Jack pulling them the rest of the way in, trying to keep them from clattering to the floor before reaching down and hand and pulling Mac himself in. "Where did you even find these things?" 

"Department store down the street," Mac shrugged, brushing the leaves off his pants legs. "Noticed them sitting out by the dumpsters when we got here. Throw one of these in each of our beds, pull the blankets up over them, and it'll look like we're still here if someone checks up on us. We go have a drink, celebrate your birthday, and come back before morning. Hit the road like nothing happened." 

Jack's face split into a wide grin at the crazy plan that was beginning to fall into place. "That is something straight out of a cheesy 90's sitcom and I love it. But you know those things never work out, right? They always backfire?" 

"Good thing we aren't in a bad sitcom then," Mac clapped him on the shoulder as he began arranging the mannequins beneath the blankets on his bed. 

"True," Jack agreed, following Mac's lead with his own bed. "Our lives are totally something straight out of a spy movie." 

"Or a buddy cop procedural drama," Mac teased. "But sure. You ready?" 

Jack put the finishing touches on the pretend Jack he was disguising and smiled, reaching out a fist for Mac to tap his own against in the dark. "Let's do this."

Mac was always amazed at how empty roads in other parts of the country became at night. Los Angeles was always busy, even at night, though the traffic was significantly better once the sun went down. But the long Texas two-lane they found themselves cruising down was entirely empty except for the two of them. Windows down, radio up, Jack drumming along to the beat on the steering wheel, smiling in the moonlight coming through the windshield, he looked happier than Mac had seen him since they had started the job the day before and he knew he had made the right call. 

"Turn off should be comin' up in a few minutes," Jack said, passing a familiar mile marker. "Thanks for this, bud, really." 

"Don't thank me yet," Mac brushed off the praise. "We haven't even got there."

"Ah, yup, we're close," Jack pointed out Mac's window. "You see that rock there? Looks kinda like a steer, right? A good ol' Texas longhorn? That's how you know we're almost there."

Mac just nodded, not seeing any resemblance in the rock formation to any form of cattle, but going with it anyway. "When was the last time you were here?" 

"It's been years, man." Jack shook his head, trying to remember. "Dad and I drove out here right after we got this beauty up and runnin' again," He reached over and patted the dash of the GTO with a grin. “That was the summer before I went CIA… damn, it really has been a while, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Mac agreed. “You never came back once he was gone? Always kinda figured you would be the kind of guy to pour one out for him.” 

“Thought about it,” Jack shrugged. “Was gonna do just that when I lost him, made it halfway out here when I left his services but couldn’t do it. Didn’t feel right goin’ alone.” 

For the first time that night, Mac found himself questioning his decision, wondering if he had pressed Jack too far into something he didn’t really want. “You’re sure you wanna do this?” He asked hesitantly. 

“What?” Jack pulled his eyes off the empty road in front of them to turn and look at Mac fully. “Yeah, of course.” He grinned, reaching out a hand to ruffle Mac’s hair. “I ain’t alone now, dummy.”

They pulled into the dusty gravel parking lot a few moments later and Jack’s broad smile eased away any remaining doubts Mac had left. Faded wooden siding, more grey than brown after spending years in the Texas sun lined the exterior and the faintest echo of a guitar could be heard once Jack shut the engine off. “Best roadhouse in Texas, right here,” Jack proudly proclaimed, climbing out of the car and waiting for Mac to do the same. 

The interior looked exactly as Mac had expected it to. A slightly warped stage and a worn dancefloor were tucked away in one corner while a row of scratched pool tables took up residency in another. It was dark and smoky, as every authentic roadhouse should be, but it wasn’t crowded, which let Mac relax a little more as he followed Jack to the bar. “Hasn’t changed a bit,” Jack smiled, spinning around on his barstool to lean back against the bar, taking in the familiar room. 

Mac’s eyes trailed over to the jukebox, tucked away into an alcove along the far wall when a wall of photographs caught his eye. He went closer, curious, and found a familiar pair of brown eyes smiling back at him from the faded square of a polaroid.

“Birthday wall,” Jack explained. “That thing’s still up there?” He dropped a hand on Mac’s shoulder as he stepped behind him, taking in the photograph of a twenty-one-year-old Jack Dalton proudly holding a beer bottle, sitting beside his dad at the same bar counter. “Well, maybe a few things have changed after all. Jeez, I was just a kid there.”

“You look like him,” Mac nodded towards the older man in the photo, who was smiling at his son instead of at the camera. “Just like him.” 

“Yeah?” Jack smiled proudly at the observation. “Well, I’ll take that any day.”

There were two beers waiting for them at their seats when they made their way back. “Happy birthday,” Mac raised his bottle for Jack to clink his own against.

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” Jack asked after he had taken his first drink. “Bout this place?” 

“Sure,” Mac took a drink of his own. 

“Remember me tellin’ you this was kinda a Dalton tradition? Bringin’ your kid here on his twenty-first birthday?” 

Mac nodded, eyes drifting back to the wall of photographs, wondering how far back they went. 

“Well, at the risk of sounding hella sentimental,” Jack took another drink, gathering his courage and lowering his inhibitions in one move, “I had every intention of bringin’ you out here to celebrate your’s if the timing would’ve worked out right and we were home in time.” 

“Really?” Mac sat his drink down and turned to face Jack, surprise written all over his face. “Even back then?” 

“It was just the thing to do, tradition, I guess” Jack shrugged, not meeting Mac’s eyes. “And I was gonna keep it goin’.” 

It never failed to amaze Mac, how lucky he was to have fallen into Jack’s life. That the universe had been able to patch all the holes in his childhood caused by abandonment and anger and fear with one great man who was willing to step up and take him in, protect and love him like the son he never had. “That’s why you made such a big deal about it, back in the sandbox, isn’t it? My birthday that year?” 

“It was your twenty-first,” Jack took another drink. “Wanted it to be as special as mine was.” 

“It was,” Mac assured, remembering the day with a smile and bumping a shoulder into Jack’s. “But thanks, for even considering wanting to bring me into the tradition like that.” 

“I really did try,” Jack continued. “Requested a few days leave off base and everything. It was denied pretty quick so I never mentioned it.” He huffed a laugh, glancing back at the photo wall. “Dad would have come back down her just to tan my hide if I hadn’t tried to keep it goin’ with a kid of my own. There should be a picture of you and me up there.” 

“Maybe,” Mac hesitated, not wanting to overstep. “I mean, my birthday is right around the corner. And Matty kinda owes us some vacation days for making us work clear through yours. Maybe we can come back. "

"Yeah?" Mac was glad he suggested it when Jack turned back to him with a smile. "You'd wanna do that?"

"This place has a certain charm," Mac admitted, looking around. "And it's not like I wasn't going to spend it hanging out with you anyway. Might as well do it right and come here to celebrate."

"I'd love that," Jack slung an arm over Mac's shoulders. "Pops would've too."

It was a beautiful moment until it was ruined by the bar door slamming open and a group made up of Dion Hatcher and his men burst through. "Damn," Jack hissed, setting his beer down and jumping to his feet, putting himself between Mac and the incoming threat. "We're made."

Luckily the bar was nearly empty and the remaining few patrons didn't seem interested in the impending brawl. Two men came after Mac while Hatcher himself and two more went for Jack. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Mac quickly took out the smaller of the men, the first to arrive with a quick slam of the barstool he had still been sitting on when the fight began, effective and impressive at the same time and Jack felt a surge of pride before there were three men circling him and his priorities shifted.

They were well-trained, that much was clear from the first swing, Hatcher stepping back, standing just out of the way enough to keep his hands clean but close enough to keep Jack cornered, back against the bar, clearly singling Jack out as the bigger threat of the two supposed CIA agents he was tailing. 

As it usually did when fists started flying, Jack zoned out. Completely aware of his actions but it was like he was watching them through another set of eyes. He didn’t feel the hit that glanced off his jaw as he turned at just the right moment, avoiding what would have most likely been a total knock out, just focused instead on bringing his boot up to the side of minion number one’s knee cap at just the right angle and giving it a solid kick, sending his entire leg buckling, folding in on itself like a lawn chair. Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep track of everyone at all times, and he swung around, one opponent down, at the ominous sound of glass shattering just in time to watch minion number two bust his nearly-finished beer bottle off the counter, holding its remains by the kneck and gouging a slice across his side, just above the waistband of his jeans. He growled, partially from pain, partially because he had actually really liked the now ruined shirt he was wearing and landed a solid headbutt, one of the ones that Mac was always complaining about, to the goon’s face, using his disoriented state to smack the broken glass from his hand and smash his face into the bartop in one smooth motion. 

Three down, two to go, Jack surveyed the bar, now entirely empty except for them, any remaining customers had been smart enough to leave in the midst of all the chaos. Hatcher had backed away slightly, concern growing on his face as he realized he was down to one remaining bodyguard. A bodyguard who, Jack noticed with panic, along with his partner, had fallen silent. 

Quiet fights were, in Jack's experience, never good fights, and this one was no exception. When he finally found Mac he was pressed up against the wall of the bar, feet scrambling, not quite reaching the floor, held there by his attacker's forearm pressed tightly against his neck. "Let him go!" Jack screamed, watching Mac struggle to pull in a breath, eyes rolling, panicked, searching for Jack. The goon turned to Jack and grinned. 

Every muscle in Jack's body was screaming at him to go tackle the man, it would be the quickest way to save Mac, but he had to be reasonable. Tackling him, while offering a momentary reprieve, was a short-term solution. It still left them at two-on-two odds, and neither Mac or Jack would be going into that round of the fight unharmed. And then Jack remembered where they were. 

Ignoring the stinging ache in his side and the smear of blood he left across the formica bar, Jack jumped across it in a single smooth motion, landing in a crouch behind the bar and smiling when what he was searching for was right at eye level. "Thank God for Texas," He whispered as he grabbed the shotgun off its holder and checked the barrel, jumping to a stand with it brought to his shoulder. As much as he was tempted to, he was playing the long game so he ignored the peril his partner was in and trained the gun on Dion Hatcher instead. "Call him off. Now." 

After a hesitating second glancing between his one remaining source of safety and the barrel of the gun Jack was unwaveringly holding on him, Hatcher gave in, calling off the man who let Mac drop unceremoniously to the floor in a heap. "Get them out of here," He nodded to the remaining men in various states of brokenness sprawled out across the floor. "And agree to me not ever havin' to see your face again and I'll consider not putting a round in you on your way out the door." 

He made himself wait until they were all gone before jogging around the bar, keeping the shotgun in his hand just in case, and dropping with a wince to his knees beside Mac, who was leaning against the wall, rubbing at the bruises already forming across his neck. "Maybe..." Mac croaked, taking in blood leaking down Jack's side. "This wasn't such a good idea after all." 

Dawn broke the next morning, sending cheery rays of sun through the slatted blinds of the hospital room Mac and Jack had been admitted to late the night before. Bruised and sore, they were both in good spirits, arguing around bites of hospital breakfasts over who should be responsible for cleaning the blood off the seats of Jack's car: Jack, since it was, after all, his blood, or Mac, since it had been his idea that had ended in a bar fight, to begin with. It was a pointless argument and both of them knew it. They would spend their next day off in Mac's garage working on cleaning it up together, just like they always did. Their good mood was instantly squandered though when Matty Webber walked through the door. 

"Seriously?" She asked, standing between their beds, arms crossed. 

"I'm sor..." Mac began, but Jack interrupted him. 

"Don't listen to him, I made a bad call, Matty." 

"No!" Mac protested, wincing his throat screamed in protest as he raised his voice. "It was my idea." 

"Stop," Matty held up a resisting hand, quieting them both. "I don't want to hear it. It doesn’t matter, this is on me anyway. I'm the one who's sorry. I never should have asked you two to go on this job. Not on Jack's birthday, and certainly not when I knew it was going to take you that close to being back home. I'm sorry. But in all honesty, only the two of you could manage to get into a bar fight in the middle of what was literally the easiest mission I could have possibly sent you on."

"You never say that, always always jinxes them, Matty," Jack smiled. "You know better than that."

She sighed, already having admitted to being in the wrong once today and that was well over her usual limit. "How long are you two stuck here?" 

"Should be good to go any time," Mac said, glancing over at Jack for confirmation, who nodded. "Just didn't want either of us driving last night after the hits we took. 

"And exactly what kind of hit makes you sound like someone swapped your mouthwash for thumbtacks?" 

"The kind that leaves you pinned to the wall by someone's meaty arm," Jack shook his head in disgust. 

"I'm fine," Mac insisted. "Jack's the one with, what was it Jack? Twenty-six or twenty-seven? Stitches holding him together?"

"Way to throw me under the bus, dude," Jack rolled his eyes. "I'm fine," He assured Matty. "Guy came at me with a broken bottle. I dodged the worst of it." 

"Sure you did," She shook her head. "Are you sure you are safe to drive home or do I need to load you on the plane back to California with me and let that car of yours find her own way back?" 

"Like hell you will," Jack laughed. "We'll make it. Soon as we find some clothes. Though we do kinda have to backtrack a little, go back to the hotel and get the rest of our stuff." 

That was Matty's cue to hold up a resisting finger and step back out of the room, returning with each of their duffle bags, packed and ready to go. "That's taken care of. You can thank me by explaining the mannequins I found in your beds." 

"We were tryin' to make it look like we were still there," Jack explained with a chuckle. "You know, sleepin'." 

"But they were female mannequins." Matty crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Without heads.” 

Mac and Jack shared a look, both holding back hysterical laughter that they knew would hurt. "I don't know," Mac finally answered, shrugging his shoulders. "We improvised. It seemed like a good idea last night." 

"Of course it did," Matty sighed, pretending to be exasperated but her frown didn't quite read as angry as she wanted it to. "Get home safely, without any more unscheduled pit stops this time please." 

"Will do," Jack offered her a lazy salute as she left the room. "Thanks, Matty." 

"No problem," She smiled. "But if the two of you end up here again when you come back for Mac's birthday? I'm not swooping in to save the day." 

“How do you think she knows?” Mac asked once they were sure she was gone. 

“No tellin’ with that woman,” Jack shrugged. “She knows everything. Don’t worry about it. Hey, I need to thank you, Mac.” 

“For what?” Mac scoffed. “Getting you in trouble with our boss? Blowing the easiest assignment we’ve ever been given? Spending the last few hours of your birthday in the ER because of a bar brawl?” 

“Yup. Exactly. All that.” Jack teased. “No, man, for puttin’ yourself out there, goin’ out of your way to make my birthday special. I gotta say, mission accomplished, too. Won’t be forgetting this one for a loooong time.” 

Mac ducked his head, ears reddening at the praise. After all the years they had worked together he still wasn’t used to how loudly Jack loved. It left him wondering just what he had done to deserve it. “You would’ve done it for me,” He answered when he realized Jack was waiting patiently for an answer. 

“Without question,” Jack agreed automatically. “Hey, what do you say, you think this town will have recovered by the time your birthday rolls around? Ready to do it all again?” 

“Maybe without the fight, but sure,” Mac laughed. “If we end up with too many bruises they won’t put our picture on that wall. Bad publicity.” 

“Naw, they got to,” Jack protested. “It’s a Dalton family tradition. You’re a part of that now, like it or not.” 

And some traditions, Jack decided, were worth fighting for.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for joining me on this crazy week! It’s been an absolute blast celebrating George (and Jack) and I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have!


End file.
